Hers: The First of Four
by Miss Manic Dysfunction
Summary: Fate has its way of working, and even the most innocent of souls can become corrupt. Let the dark waltz begin... Pre-KH, LumariaRelena
1. Of Banquets and Maids

Hers

_Happier Times_

_The First of a Series_

**To Robin and Connie, because I know you're the biggest fans of this work. You've been waiting for it, and you deserve it (and before you click that review button or reply to my e-mail, I can't publish it, not even in doushinji format. This is the States, not Japan, and companies here _don't _see fan work like Japanese ones do. (and yes, Robin, Zexy is sexy. S'pecially in a miniskirt and fishnets -shot repeatedly-.)) Thanks for being great pals as well. Remember: the Snowman is still on my bookshelf. Truth or dare?**

**Ummm... Why do people put disclaimers? We all know that I don't own this crap. But, of course, if I did own it (and these are a common occurrence as well, normally leading towards "ZOMG (-insert mainstream yaoi pairing here-) would be ttly canon!" but that's another story) there would be fewer cut scenes involving friendship speeches, I'd give Axel a smaller part (or a different death scene--dogs should die like dogs), and final bosses would be harder (seriously Marluxia, wtf?). Oh, and Kairi wouldn't have the ugly hair in KH2.**

**Author does not hold responsibility for cranial bleeding. Seriously. Don't sue me if your brain starts to bleed.**

_Once upon a time..._

Sunny days and green grass surrounded my natal home. The manor in which I lived (they called it a villa, saying it was a foreign word that sounded almost professional) was decorated in honey yellows and grass-toned green. Almost everywhere within the huge house, a tapestry hung from the ceiling. I would walk down the halls and gaze at the grand tapestries supposedly made by women in my family. I remember touching one my mother said she made and asking, "Will I make one of these one day?"

My mother's reply was a swift scoff, "Relena, only if I cannot find a husband to dump you with and consequently you either become defective or you marry one of your brothers. Either way, there's not a chance you'll be touching a needle."

How clearly I remember my mother. She was a Calanche by marriage, as was my father's mother, and my grandfather's mother. The latest Calanche woman to marry out and take control of the house was my grandfather's mother, who (as my grandfather will tell me) was the only sane pup of the litter. According to witnesses, she was a firm ruler and used her husband solely when she needed him. Her name was Relena, the same name I carry. My grandfather suggested it, and my mother (who loves all three of us children but has a general maternal cruelty) agreed without any second thoughts.

Then there was my father. He was almost ten years older than my mother, though he looked younger by far. I have been told repeatedly that I am his spitting image, except for my face which is supposedly my grandmother's (who died before I could meet her). He had my dark hair and green eyes, though he kept his far messier. He practically lived in his study and came out only when called to meals or sending off trolling parties. Sometimes he didn't even come for meals and had the maids come up and bring him food and empty his chamber pot. He seemed like a kind man, but was always buried in a book and thus I never got to know him as well as my mother did.

My two brothers were Candace and Greylan. Candace is older than Greylan by five years, and Greylan is a little over a year older than me. All three of us were close until Candace was ten and decided that we weren't good enough to play with him. He had already received his own room and was learning to do boy things. Greylan and I were still in the nursery. I didn't talk to Candace much after that. Greylan also began to push away from me when Candace left us. He didn't want to be a baby in his older brother's eyes. If it wasn't for my grandfather, I would have been terribly lonesome.

Grandfather was a happy man with big arms and a comfortable lap. He always would tell me a story and constantly called me "Little Missy" or "Rellie". He was the only person I ever allowed to do so. My most prominent memory of him was his death. I was six years old. Everyone was crying, even my father. I couldn't understand what was going on. Why were we following this procession? Where was Grandfather? What does dead mean?

That night, I lay in the nursery and gathered the urge to turn to Greylan and ask, "When's Grandpa coming back?"

Greylan's reply (it came after some time because he was crying in his pillow): "Relena, you're stupid. This isn't some dumb fairy tale. Grandpa's dead; he ain't coming back."

"Ever?"

"Never."

After that, Mother began to train me to be a proper lady. Father had worked something out with the King. I was promised to the Prince, and must be properly trained to assume my future role of Queen. From then on, I had entered what I call "ladyship".

--

_They called her spoiled, that creature who lived in her rooms and the library and her mother's chambers. She rarely left the manse, rarely spoke to those outside her circle, and rarely stopped demanding more than she had. They said she loved none but herself, and maybe her maid. And, yes, they said she was beautiful. They also pitied her future husband. Living with her would be more of a chore than a joy._

_Relena was sweet as a child, they said. And then her mother changed her, they said. They say she became a reclusive woman with a cold heart._

_All in all, the boy found her fascinating, partially because she was oh-so-much like him. But they'd never have to know that he too was selfish and demanding. They, after all, were only voices that existed in the gossip of women and girls living in Calanche Villa._

_He could break her. It would just take time. Time, patience, and a good amount of gin._

--

"Relena!" yelled my maiden-in-waiting, Elsee. She was dashing through the corridors that housed me, a few of my servants, and my mother. Her pale blue-and-white skirts were hiked up to her knees and her plain-heeled shoes made a loud CLACK-CLACK against the floor. "Ohhh, shit, Lady Relena! Forgive me!"

I poked my head out of the door, still in my night clothes. Elsee stopped and placed her hands on her knees. She panted heavily, glancing up at me every now and then. "Elsee?" I asked, stepping out of the door and leading her inside. "What's the rush for?"

Elsee, in her normal manner, pushed me into the chair in front of the mirror and began her work as she caught her breath. She brushed my hair and pulled it into a neat bun. "You see," she said, her breathing more regular, "the Prince arrives today, Relena--oh, I mean Lady Relena." Elsee was twice my age and watched after me in the nursery. She had been my maiden-in-waiting for almost five years and still didn't have the hang of calling me Lady Relena. I didn't care, but rules are rules.

"Oh, him." Lumaria Varluse, the Crown Prince of Galacia. Joy. I began resenting him when I was ten. He was a stuffy prince, a _boy_. Six years later, my opinions hardly changed. He was the obstacle between me and the cute hunter, Jaden that often rode into the trolling parties. "I'm meeting him, then? Great..."

"You don't sound too thrilled, milady," Elsee said, burrowing through my closet to find the dress that she made special for this occasion. She pulled it out with a satisfied, "Ahhh, this one." She walked over and pulled my nightclothes off and began to aid with the dressing. All in all, I figured the dress showed too much of my collarbone to a complete stranger.

"You try being engaged to a stranger," I snapped as she pulled the laces of the dress tight. I glanced in the looking glass that hung on the wall. I scowled; the outfit did not suit me at all. "I don't see why this is so important," I muttered.

"The King is in debt to your father," said Elsee, pushing a circlet onto my brow. "He says he'll marry his son to you for no cost, no competition, et cetera." She stroked my dark hair lovingly. A note of longing sparked in her warm brown eyes; she never had children of her own. "Aren't you pretty, darling?" Elsee kissed my cheek and grasped my hand. "You look smashing. What are you worried about? Any normal boy would be smitten with you."

I rolled my eyes and glared at her. "Yeah, but he's not just anyone," I sighed. "And what if we don't like each other?" I winced at that comment, catching my own mistake. "Well, we may well not... But... I... I don't know. I just... I can't stand the thought of going off with a total stranger. He might be ugly and selfish, for all I know."

--

_Oh, what pretty eyes. What a pretty girl. All eyes were upon Lady Relena as her fat maid led her down the swooping staircase. A thousand eyes stared at her voluptuous frame; certain eyes had filthier intents than others. Oh, what grace. No, not grace. Relena's step originated in pride, a certain sense of cruelty and elitism that made her feel above the peasants, slaves, and other nobles in this room. Whether she liked her fiancée or not, she would one day be queen. She wouldn't be stuck with this pitiful ladyship forever. Oh, no. Relena would surpass them all, and her ambition showed in her cold green eyes._

_On the other side of the room, a young man with a dirty face and patched clothing sighed and muttered to the man standing next to him. "That is your lady?"_

_The slave nodded. "She is a gorgeous one," he said, "but some say she got no heart. Maybe a goddess got jealous or summun'. She's as cold as ice, that one, and talk only to her maid in a kind tone. E'en her mother can't get summun' outta her without receivin' a mean tone."_

_The young one mouthed the word "Ah" and pushed his way into the crowd, meeting the condescending glares of the nobles and knights with a flick of his lipid blue eyes and an enigmatic smirk. How a lowly peasant achieved such a perfectly sculpted face and masterful confidence, the aristocracy would ponder for the rest of the night._

--

I took my place at the table aside my father. Elsee stood behind me, prepared to take any orders given. After a few moments of scouring the party, my father groaned. "He's not here," he grumbled. I gave him an inquiring glance. Father furrowed his brow and explained, "He was supposed to present himself to me. I've never actually met hi--"

At that point, the dirtiest fellow approached our grand table and bowed low. Father acknowledged him with a wave of his hand. The boy stood, smiling politely. "G'deven milord," he said. His voice surprised me; with a velvet tone and a deep pitch, I almost refused to believe he sounded that... Well, pardon my language but I have no other word to use: sexy. (There. I said it. There goes my dignity.) "Might I have the first dance with your daughter?"

I tried to shoo him away, but Father was quick to respond. "The Prince was supposed to have it," he mused, "but since you asked so politely, and our Prince seems to be nowhere in sight... Dance with her..." Father twirled his hand, asking for a name.

"Lumin," stated the peasant. "Son of Valor." I suppressed the urge to laugh aloud. Lumin wasn't a name that this lowly creature deserved. A pig farmer, I thought he was. He probably slept in the sties. None-the-less, I had to dance with him. He led me away from the table, holding my hand with a surprising amount of grace. He was probably a pervert as well. Oh, joy. I'm stuck dancing with a dirty womanizing pig keeper.

The music was a light waltz. Our movements were quick. He surprised me again with his light feet and ability. A smile darted across his face and I noticed his eyes for the first time. "You are quite the beauty, ma'am," said he. "You do look exactly like your father."

I frowned and squeezed his shoulder a little tighter. No one ever mentioned that to me in the Villa. I doubted even half of the slaves that worked in my house knew what I looked like. "And who told you that I did?" I said, sounding a bit more condescending than I should.

"My father did," he replied. He must have noticed the glare I gave him, as he laughed at me, "Heheh, so you really don't know who I am. I figured that you or your father or someone else might suspect..."

I stopped dancing and pulled out of his grasp. I stood firm, making sure that I took on the most demanding tone I possibly could. "Who are you," I barked, "and what are you talking about?"

A few of the couples around us paused momentarily and stared. They flitted back into the dance carelessly as Lumin bowed, took my hand, and kissed it. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said. He stood; his countenance held a regal air. "I am Lumaria Varluse, Crown Prince of Galacia and your future husband." He stroked my hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Relena."

--

**And that's where I'll leave off.**

**Hope Robin and Connie liked it (-:. **


	2. An Arguement whist Dancing

**Hers**

**Happier Times**

**The First of Four**

**Oo**

**Xatdoln says this is boring.**

**I can't say I disagree. ).**

**For KK and her (at least I imagine to be) adorable son.**

**I own nothing. Writing style courtesy of Jane Green.**

--

The lack of attention was good. I wasn't sure what I would do if everyone was staring at me. Besides, the music was good, and my veangence would be taken in subtle measures. I yawned, certain to emphasize my disdain for Lumaria's poor attempts at pranks. He shrugged it off and stood. He took my hand and off into the crowd we went.

"And I suppose you don't read," he sighed, turning suddenly. I scowled and dug my fingernails into his skin. "Nay, a pretty girl such as yourself has so many more important tasks than to lounge in something as silly as a library."

"And certainly," I retorted, "you have much better things to do as well. Maybe wrestling with swine or rolling in cow dung, but to each his own as they say." Beads of blood formed between my nails and his flesh.

Lumaria winced, upper lip trembling, "And I guess you have silly dresses to try on. Being a future princess is _so_ hard." He yanked me to the side, changing direction like a hurricane wind.

"Oh," I his lead in a rather clumsy manner, making sure to step on his foot. "I bet the women in your castle _enjoy_ your brusque manners. Artemis _knows_ what you do when no one watches, Lumy."

A sneer was his reply, "Pagan is your following, then? Well, look at your slave count. Oh, dear... Hell's fires are hot, Rellie."

I pulled away, "How dare you!" The squeal was a bit too loud; Elsee began to dart over in her normal matter. She was too late to stop me, however. "No one, and I mean _no one _calls me Rellie." I slapped his cheek, the sound of skin hitting skin audible to everyone within a five foot radius.

Lumaria's turn to dance; he grabbed my wrist and pulled it to his lips. "Ah, but you started it. Rellie. Relli--no, _Lena_!" The grimace that sprouted across my face like a dandelion was his cue to continue. "I rather like Lena, don't you?"

"Shut up!"

"Lena, Lena, _Lena_."

He may as well continued, but he was abruptly stopped when a large hand tapped his shoulder.

--

Lumaria turned, dropping Relena's arm as if it were a snake. Greylan, now a muscular field general with actual battle experience, stood behind the prince. His firm countenence proved his disdain towards his sister's harassment (even if she might have deserved it).

"Are you bothering her?" snarled Greylan, thumbing the weathered broadsword that hung at his hip.

"Yes," said she. "No," said he.

Greylan arched a brow. "Really? I don't need to interrupt anything?" He glanced at Relena, sighing. "If I may," he held out his hand to her, a warm smile erupting on its own. Relena took Grey's hand and shot a glare of triumph to Lumaria.

As the pair danced off, Lumaria smirked. "You may have won the battle, Lena," he snickered, "but I'm certain you'll become accustomed to the idea of marrying me. After all, we aren't very different. Not at all."

He made his way to the exit without another word.

--

I didn't see the Prince of Swine at all for the rest of the night. I think Greylan scared him off. That was fine by me, as Greylan had many stories for me.

"So, what is combat like?" I would ask. "Is it really bloody? Do you feel upset when you're done?"

He would answer to the best of his extent, although his knowledge about the reasons behind the attacks was miniscule. I was slightly disappointed; I find the politics fascinating. Unfortunately, Mr. Lumaria doesn't seem like then kind of person to let his queen sit in court. Pity; it was the only thing I was really looking forward to.

We danced until the wee hours of the morning. I remember speaking with Elsee shortly before I fell asleep.

"When I go with him," I muttered, "you'll come, too."

Elsee smiled. I laughed inside; the wrinkles Elsee said didn't exist were even more prominent when she smiled. She had a maternal feel about her that I could not get from my own mother. I loved her for that; she was my best friend, my mother, and my mentor.

"Of course I'll come," she sighed. She patted my hair. "Good night, m'lady."

"Night, Elsee."

--

_It was about this time when a blood-stained elf found his way to a world where he could find peace._

_A man with silver hair named him Saix._

--

**Done with two.**

**His will be better... I hope...**


	3. Trolls

**Hers**

**Happier Times**

**The First of Four**

**I'm writing these in all different font styles (not that you can see them.) This one was written in Century Gothic D.**

**This one's to... To... Umm... Let's give this one to Allison, because she loves princesses as much as (if not more than) I do D. KAIRI RULES!**

**I own nothing. Nope, nothing.**

--

While we enjoyed our night of dancing, a new terror struck the farmers in the night. Word about last night's troll attack sent the entire manse in a tizzy. My father ordered immediate action to be taken. A trolling party had to be banded and mobilized by sundown--Calanche Villa could not withstand another attack. I normally would have over-looked such a minor event had a certain someone not convinced my father that he and I should go along--as _bonding _experience.

I have to hand it to Lumaria--he can make anyone bend to his will with a few words.

So there I was, in a pair of woman's riding breeches, on the back of a horse that was slightly too big for me. At least I wasn't in a skirt--oh, how they would have _loved _that. Beside me, mounted on a stallion that still breathed the fire of freedom and galloped with the wind, was my future husband. Joy. Allow me to vomit in the nearest chamber pot as a sign of my elation.

"Make sure nothing too awful happens to her," Father warned. He glanced at me, his eyes saying that he trusted me as much as he trusted a criminal. "Keep her out of trouble."

"Yessir," Lumaria said, beaming. He took my hand and laughed, "We'll be absolutely fine!"

He released my hand as soon as my father was out of sight. Lumaria became locked in conversation with a farmer. I decided not to listen; there was a rather handsome hunter nearby, and he seemed interesting. I nudged my horse, but couldn't get it to move. I huffed, tossing the reins up and down. The dumb beast didn't react. It chose to nibble at the grass instead.

"Well?" I snapped. I squeezed my legs together. "Move your big horse ass!"

The man nearest me laughed, "You need to kick it, hon."

Any girl but me would have questioned animal welfare (and I assumed he expected me to), but I could care less about the stupid creature's feelings. I dug my feet into the horse's belly. It nearly reared and began to charge forward at lightning pace. With my inexperience with the stupid beasts, I didn't know what to do. My only hope was to hang on and hope I didn't fall off.

--

Lumaria didn't notice Relena's takeoff at first. He was too busy trying to piece together a possible location for a troll nest. It was the laughing of the men in the party that got his attention.

"What's so funny?" snapped Lumaria, rather annoyed at the manner of their troupe.

Shamus pointed forward, snickering and rubbing his graying beard. Lumaria grimaced, then glanced down at the farmer. "Excuse me, but I must go catch my wife." He clicked to his horse, spurred the great beast, and tore off after the renegade rider.

--

After the event of the morning had passed, I wasn't sure which was hurting more--my arms or my pride. The horse was returned to his stall (if you ask me, I think the beast was glad he was rid of me) and I was placed on the back of Prince Lumy's horse. I had to admit--he smelled better when he bathed, and he did know how to use an animal. (Yes, I see that smirk forming on the side of your mouth. Wipe it away, because I _assure _you I have done nothing of the like.)

It wasn't enough to make him great, but I suppose it made him better than last night. I only wish he hadn't have pulled such a stupid prank. I hated him from the beginning, and he didn't need to confirm my stereotype of him.

Then again, I guess he had a stereotype of me and I did a pretty good job of conforming to it. But I don't dwell on stuff like that much. Too much of me being wrong does not a happy Relena make.

Does that make me conceited? Spare me your opinion. I don't care what you think.

None-the-less, our day of trolling had begun.

Race--the cute hunter I saw earlier--found a trail with ease. He signaled for us to follow. In my opinion, any idiot could find a troll's path. Don't trolls realize that if they destroy everything in their way, they'll be found? Oh, yeah, and their dung isn't exactly subtle in scent either. You could _smell _a troll from miles away.

However, I didn't expect such a long ride. Trolls must really like to travel. The thick forests didn't help my nerves, either. I was neither stupid nor deaf; I knew bandits hid in the woods. I heard packs of wolves sometimes. I shivered, remembering that I was unarmed and surrounded by men that probably wouldn't care if I got left behind when danger lurked. I squeezed Lumaria a little tighter, instantly regretting my decision.

"Getting cozy?" he droned, obviously bored to tears from the entire event.

My face grew hot. "No," I snapped. "I just..."

"What?" He turned his head slightly, as if he almost _cared _about what I had to say.

"I don't think we're very well armed," I sighed, "and there are wolves and bandits--"

"Hah," interrupted Lumaria. "Bandits and wolves are smart, Lena." I fumed silently. "They don't attack groups this big. They know when to fight and when to stay away."

"Well," I snarled, "I hope you're right. _Lumy_."

--

She couldn't see it from her angle, but Lumaria smiled when she called him Lumy. Coming from her lips, it wasn't the bullying name of an older cousin or cocky guard's son.

Lumaria. His mother named him that because it meant "the light of Mary". After all, he was the only one of her children to turn out so healthy and happy. But children are cruel, and Lumaria was younger and weaker than his cousin, Casper. Little Lumy became his name; he was teased because he wasn't as good as the big kids. Shouldn't Casper get the throne, as Casper was older and stronger and smarter? Little Lumy couldn't do a thing.

But from her lips... From her, it was sweet and loving, even though she didn't mean it to be that way.

She was beautiful, he'd give her that.

--

We found the hole a good twenty minutes after my little conversation with Lumaria. It was a dismal thing; I couldn't imagine how any creature could live in a shabby hole that was lined with dung. I shirked Lumaria's aid, vouching to fall off the horse instead. I was caught before I could hit the ground. Lumaria couldn't help laughing, and (much to my disdain) I chuckled a little. Yes, I have a sense of humor and care to show it sometimes. Let's all snap for me.

"Would our maid of honor like to drive the monsters out?" asked the old man that I could not identify as Shamus. He handed me a torch before I could reply. I glanced at him, not sure what to do. He laughed (he loved to laugh loud and strong--I don't know why), then explained, "Throw the torch down the hole and the trolls will take care of themselves."

I was relieved. I thought I had to go down the stupid hole. With a smirk--one that grew as I got closer--I tossed the torch down the hole.

Instantly, I heard a scream of horror.

Scream? No. Scream is too mild of a term to put the sound I heard. Trolls are unusual beings, indeed. They look like apes mixed with ground beef. And they sound like... Well, what do you think someone being tossed into Hell sounds like? That unearthly wail made me stagger back, but it was the smell that made me want to cry, vomit, and pass out. It was then that three trolls darted from the hole and ran around, being set on fire by the sun's rays. We watched them wave their arms--fast at first, but they slowed. They eventually stopped, dropping into charred carcasses at the base of an oak tree.

It was the worst experience of my life.

I couldn't wait to go trolling again.

--

**Trolls. Yes, there **_**was**_** a trolling scene planned for the original Hers. It wasn't like this, though.**

**Trooooollllsssss...**

**8D**

**I will be gone for a month, so no updates will be made.**


	4. A Breakfast

**Hers**

**Happier Times**

**The First of Four**

**Comic Sans looks really bad in bold. Really, it does. The Es look insufficient when in lowercase.**

**I wrote 2-4 all in one night, so the rhythm is a bit better in these than in 1 to 2.**

**This one is all for Robin, the very first Hers fan. She's the reason you get to read this; she's the one that originally put the gun to my head. Zexi is **_**very**_** sexy (should we change that to Zexy or sexi?). The Snowman says HI!**

**Ownage of nothing.**

...

She was asleep by the time they got back. Lumaria expected that. His first trolling experience was almost traumatizing. One of the beasts got close and leaped upon him. He could still remember the smell of burning flesh and dung that still clung to its fur. God, why did he go trolling again?

Oh, yes. The addiction to the hunt. It was boring to follow the trail, but the kill was worth it.

This time, though... He got to experience something altogether... Different.

Infatuation. It was a wonderful thing. After all, she was pretty. She smelled nice. She... She was self-absorbed, spiteful, and slightly sadistic. He couldn't deny it--she was him without a y-chromosome.

Whatever crazy fates pushed them together were smart fates indeed.

...

Lumaria woke me up outside the manse. My father was standing there, smiling as Lumaria put me on my feet. Father doesn't smile like you think people smile. He manages a half-smirk with his normal glare not in place. We call it his smile, as we only see it when he's pleased about something.

Of course he's happy. He's marrying his daughter off to the Crown Prince. Bastard.

"Here she is," sighed Lumaria, scratching his ear. "All in one piece."

Before Father could reply, Lumaria was stumbling inside. I'm sure he was tired--we were gone for fourteen hours there and back. I yawned and kissed my father's cheek.

"G'night."

He nodded. I slunk up to my room. I was asleep before my head could reach the pillow.

...

That night, Lumaria dreamed of a night sky with stars fading faster than they should. He stood with another man, the grim silence between them a sign of both fear and awe. Then, the man turned to Lumaria and said, "The boss's orders. Let's find the survivors."

And with that, the dream was gone.

...

I rarely went to dine with my father; Elsee and I took our meals in my quarters. Our family wasn't tight-knit, and I doubt it ever will be. Mother's sanity was waning (she kept dancing alone in her room and asking me to close curtains that were already closed). Father never really had much to do with us (he had his study, and he was never to be disturbed). Candace... Well, no one said his name anymore. Greylan was home between skirmishes, but he was constantly training when he was home. So when a young maid came in to ask that I attend the dining hall, you could imagine my surprise.

"Why?" I wrung my hands. Something bad was coming, I knew it.

"His Majesty wishes to dine with you," she said. She left like a mouse, being certain that I didn't ask any more questions.

Elsee was the one that squealed in delight. "Relena," she cried, "we must get you ready!"

Elsee spent the better part of the hour washing me, brushing my hair, and tearing through my wardrobe. She finally found a gown that "almost worked". It was an older one with a dark green skirt and light blue tunic-part. I never bothered with dress lingo--it bored me. I allowed her to dress me and tie up my hair in a braid. She smiled and skipped all the way out of the hall.

Elsee's face fell as we entered the dining hall. Apparently, our Prince had been waiting.

"Oh, I am really sorry," she said, beginning to smother him with apologies. "Really, I--"

"It's fine," he sighed. "You are dismissed."

Elsee sputtered. "B-but--a chaperon! Certainly, you must--"

"She is my fiancee, is she not?" he gave Elsee one of his persuasive stares.

"W-well..." She sighed, then turned to leave. "If he hurts you," she whispered to me, "call me and I'll wring his sorry neck." She was gone in an instant.

Breakfast--roasted chicken and white wine, courtesy of Calanche Villa's vineyards--came out on cast-iron platters. The first half of the meal was spent in awkward silence. Finally (as some excuse to break the pause), Lumaria spoke.

"Your maid is annoying," he said. He took a sip of wine.

If my mother hadn't have done such an excellent job of training me, my jaw would have dropped. Instead, ladies toss their wine over a rude person. OK, not really, but... I wanted to dump wine on him. It was amusing, and it was a perfect way to show that what he said was very offensive.

An awkward silence resumed as a cook fetched another glass of wine for me and another napkin for Lumaria.

Breakfast was a failure indeed.

...

Bold, easily agitated, and spontaneous. He was falling for her more and more every second. She would be an excellent queen. Now she only needed some fighting abilities and she would be perfect. What with the skirmishes along the border of Thearun and the fear of invasion, Lumaria wasn't certain he wanted her unprepared for an attack.

Maybe some knowledge of horseback combat, black magic, and basic swordsmanship would keep her alive in the event of an invasion or rebellion. Yes, would do.

He would make the suggestion today.

...

**Extremely short chapter. I laugh at your misery.**


	5. Lilacs Aren't Really Evil

**Hers**

**Happier Times**

**The First of Four**

**The original Hers was hand-written on looseleaf pieces of notebook paper. It smudged quite a bit. Elsee had no role what-so-ever, Candace was called Faelin and was married to a lesser noble's daughter, Greylan was not even thought of, and Lady Calanche's sanity was firmly in place. It was also faster to the chase; my original design was to have them married by this chapter. The original featured pure first-person. We learned nothing of the Organization.**

**Funny how things change, huh?**

**This one's for Connie. She's in Asia as I write this, but if everything goes smoothly it'll be July before anyone reads this. Thanks for screaming at me, Connie. Remember: Robin had the gun first, but you're the one who picks it up when Robin wants a break.**

**So, are you ready for my "If I owned this" speech? Good thing you aren't, because that's for a later chapter.**

(and so it begins)

Once our (awkward and disturbing) meal ended, Lumaria invited me for a walk around the garden. He said that he wished to see the plants that grew around Calanche Villa. I agreed, albeit reluctantly, and off we went to explore "The Great Outdoors."

We strode amongst the flowers for a while. he would point one out and give it a name, such as Hyacinth or Queen Anne's Lace. I would nod, not being one for memorizing the names of flowers myself. I enjoyed to see them in a vase or a glass, but their names and meanings were insignificant when you thought of their scent. As we continued on our way, we passed a bush full of sweet flowers that I always enjoyed playing under as a young girl. I inhaled, the sweet scent filling my lungs. A soft smile crossed Lumaria's face. He pulled a bunch of flowers from the bush and handed them to me.

"I suppose you like lilacs," he said. "I'll keep that in mind."

I snickered, "You and flowers. Oh, Lumy, what ever are we going to do with you?"

His sheepish grin was his only response. I wished I knew the meaning of the flowers; he was happy about something that I couldn't put my finger on.

Maybe these flowers symbolized envy or hate or something awful. My face fell. I turned the flowers about in my hand.

Finally, I couldn't stand it. I turned to him, "What kind of sick joke is this?"

He looked confused, "What are you talking about?"

I crossed my arms. "You," I pointed at him, "are using my ignorance, aren't you? You've given me some stupid flower with a cruel meaning."

"N-no, you don't--" He couldn't explain, as I chose that moment to toss down the flowers and walk in the opposite direction. He swore and scooped up the flowers, running after me.

"Go away," I snarled. Of course, Lumaria being stubborn as he was would not take no for an answer. He grabbed my shoulder. I whirled on my heel and slapped him. "I'll scream," I threatened.

(pride and prejudice)

Her strike hurt more than his skin; he could almost feel her anger in the blow. He was doing a fine job of messing his approach up. Why not hang himself while he was at it? "You'll scream?" said he, daring her to try. "Precisely what am I doing to deserve this?"

Her brow furrowed and her lower lip stuck out. "You are a harassment," she snarled. "You... You're such a pain! I can't believe I have to _live _with you, let alone _marry_ you!"

"So this is what I get?" It was a low-key hiss. Lumaria was not a shouter by nature; he believed that the weight of his words came across better in lower tones. Screaming was (in his mind) immature. "I give you a flower, and you think me some kind of villain? Hmm?"

Relena's back arched, her chin rose, and her eyes narrowed. She looked like some animal trying to make itself look bigger. "When you give it with hostile intentions--"

"Get over it!" His voice was a good fifty-some decibels over his preferred tone. He didn't care now. "Are you going to question everything I do?!"

"Don't yell at me." Her own voice was rising, each syllable becoming more sharp by the second. "You have no right!"

"And you deny a gift!" Lumaria held out the bundle of flowers. "How would _you_ feel if someone scoffed at you for a gift?"

"You picked them out of my garden, you moron!" Her hands flew to her hips. "I could call that stealing, you know!"

Lumaria opened his mouth to retort, but no words came to his mouth. A smug grin crossed Relena's face. "Touche," Lumaria snarled. "For now, at least, I'll say that."

"Good," she snapped. She left him in the garden. He stayed there for a good half hour, looking at the lilacs in his hand.

Maybe he should have allowed his pride to bend and told her that the flower meant first love.

(up so close)

Offended and annoyed, I should have gone to find Greylan. Instead, I was determined to prove a stupid boy wrong. He probably thought I was some incompetent moron. Well, I'd prove him wrong. I made my way to the stables and sought out one of the Thearunian slaves that kept the horses.

"Boy," I ordered, "The Prince requires his beloved gelding. Have it saddled and bring it to me."

The boy didn't bother to question me. He only scampered off to find the lovely stallion that Prince Lumaria seemed to love so much. My conscience firmly disagreed with my actions, but I was too ticked to care about my conscience.

He brought the beast back, and I had to agree that it was a magnificent specimen. It still looked wild, its bay coat still glistened with life. I touched its neck. "Very good."

With a boost from the stable boy, I was on the horse in seconds. I managed to get the horse to move the way I wanted it to. It was easy--how could I have had trouble with this? My confidence built. I figured I was ready to try the trail behind the wheat field.

I cantered to the trail entrance, slowed the stallion to a walk, and began my adventure. Everything went smoothly for the first half-hour. I enjoyed the calls of birds, the sound of hooves hitting the ground, and the general feel of nature.

My freedom was ruined by a gruff voice from the trees beside me. "What have we here?" Out of the shadows came a tall, half-starved man in ragged leathers. Beside him were two other people; a man with uncombed hair and a woman with eyes wilder than a wolf's. I shivered, urging the stallion to back up.

"She's got a pretty pony," snickered the woman, her nasally voice piercing my eardrums. She moved towards me, holding out her hand to touch the stallion.

"She's a pretty fetch," laughed the tall man. "She'd be quite a sell on the slave market." He made a motion to the woman. She nodded and undid the stallion's girth. I yelped as I hit the ground. Pain charged up my right ankle as I stood.

"I want to try her first," said the dirty man. He moved towards me, his hands finding my waist. "She's a nice one," he laughed. His breath smelled horrid. He only had five teeth.

I'm not sure what they would have done next if I hadn't thrown down my purse, broke from the bandit's grasp, and tore off into the woods. It was the only thing I could do, being untrained, unarmed, and outnumbered. So I ran. To where, I didn't know, but anywhere would be better than there.

(and so it ends)

**like, zomigosh!  
**

**Suspense!**

**Robin and Connie are gonna kill me for leaving off here xD**


	6. Hooray for Random Secondary Characters

**Hers**

**Happier Times**

**The First of Four**

**I love how slow this moves.**

**Because, you know, I just _love_ being constantly annoyed by Robin and Connie about updates.**

**This one's for the little people that don't really matter all that much. Oh, and for all the smilies that never made it into my author's notes. We all love you, smilies.**

**(Why do people give disclaimers again?)**

-insert clever breakage of paragraphs here-

Lumaria was still in the garden when Greylan found him. The large-framed man was displeased when he found that his sister wasn't with her fiancée, as she should be. What ticked him off even more was the fact that the idiot was staring at a bunch of stupid flowers. Greylan gritted his teeth and loomed over Lumaria. When the prince took no action of his presence, Greylan half-shouted a greeting: "Hey!"

Lumaria jumped, dropped the flowers, and scrambled to his feet. "Oh," he fiddled with one of his brown curls, "You... You want something?" He glanced the other way, obviously disheveled by the very presence of Greylan. It may have had something to do with the dancing incident, or the fact that Greylan was a head and a half taller than Lumaria, or the claymore that Greylan kept by his side at all times.

It is hard to be patient with someone that you are beginning to hate. Greylan forced himself not to grab the other man's neck and slam him against the garden wall. "I've been looking for Relena," Greylan said. "Mother asked about her, and I thought she was with you." There was a sense of urgency about Greylan's manner of asking. Lady Calanche spent most of her time withering away in her chambers since Candace ran away. Her clarity was like the moon, waxing and waning as the days went by.

Lumaria knew not of Lady Calanche's unfortunate condition. His tone was calm and collected, to the point of nonchalant. "Have you checked the house?"

"Yes." Greylan's brow furrowed.

"The fields?"

"Aye, there too."

"The village?"

A vein on Greylan's temple bulged--temper ran in the family, Lumaria assumed. "I looked everywhere, you twit. Where did she go?"

Still in his awkward-yet-not-phased tone, Lumaria said, "I don't know, she just left. And I assume you've checked the stables?"

Greylan opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He shook his head and clasped Lumaria's wrist (to which Lumaria protested by yelping out a "Hey"!). With Lumaria in tow, he bolted for the stables. Thoughts of Lady Calanche's wishes withered away into nothing. Relena was missing, and Greylan could not help but worry for his sister's well-being.

-these little dividers mean the chapter is either over or we're changing perspective. yaaay-

As much as I hated to admit it, I was lost.

I know it's pathetic. I mean, it's my home. These woods have always been sitting there, waiting for someone (and when I say "someone", I mean me) to waltz right through and explore every nook and cranny in the whole forest. Needless to say, I have never done anything of the like, and now my inexperience in the wonderful outdoors was catching up with me.

It would have been nice, you know, if my ankle wasn't swollen up to the size of a small tree. Oh, yes, and those bandits that were chasing after me could have been somewhere else. Those two factors could disappear and this situation would still be awful. I really didn't need them making things worse.

It wasn't long before my ankle became completely useless. I could barely hobble a few steps. "Shit," I muttered, as I had heard Elsee do so when she was completely and utterly exasperated. Yes, I know a few big words. I guess I have a vocabulary now.

Since the pain had mounted to an outrageous level, I didn't think I could go on any longer. My only option was to hide and hope the bandits didn't find me. That probably wouldn't happen, as my dress was rather long and bothersome. With a groan of anger, at Lumaria, at the bandits, and most of all myself, I plopped down on the nearest log. My dress flew upward and made its own little light and fabric show just for me. I might have enjoyed it if I had been four.

And then, I had an idea.

-SUBTLE, I KNOW-

"I can't believe her!"

It was Lumaria's turn to be pissed off. What right did Relena have to go and steal his horse for a joy ride? How sane was this woman? Although from what he had seen, Lumaria began to doubt the sanity of the entire villa. Any servant of his household would have known _never_ to relinquish a horse to anyone save its rightful owner. The sheer lunacy of anything but was enough to drive Lumaria to tears of madness.

Greylan, of course, had ordered a servant to retrieve some of Lord Calanche's hunting dogs. The boy had just darted off; Lumaria couldn't blame him. Greylan was just shy of being a giant, and even Lumaria had heard of his prowess on the battlefield. He could charge in on a cart-horse with his sword over his head and the entire troupe of Thearunian bastards would scatter in fear. Any person with a brain would know better than to cross Greylan.

"I can't believe her sometimes, either," Greylan laughed. He pushed a short strand of jet-colored hair from his eyes. "You know," he mused, "she once threw the cat out the window because it had the nerve to hiss at her."

Lumaria stared up at Greylan in disbelief. "How crazy is that woman?" he said.

Greylan laughed again. His voice was enough to make the earth shake, or at least Lumaria's head shake if the earth refused. "I thought your father told you that insanity runs in our family, Lumaria," Greylan replied. "It must run in the valley, for all we know. Relena's not as loony as some folks around here."

Lumaria scowled and folded his arms. He would have replied, but it was at that particular moment in time that the boy returned with the dogs. Greylan took one lead and handed Lumaria the other. "I'll take Baron and you take Scraps." There was no arguing from Lumaria, even though he thought his hound looked a bit like a runt wolf that had been run through a wheat thresher. There was no time for such trivial nonsense, as Greylan had set off to find Relena.

"Well, Scraps," Lumaria said to the dog, "we'd best be following."

He set off and then paused for a moment. He had just spoken to the dog as if it was a person. Was the insanity of the valley running off on him? Lumaria shook his head and headed off after Greylan before the taller man could yell at him again.

-and here's another one-

The tall man in the rags and the woman with the wolf eyes tore into the clearing. The pug-nose on the woman's face flared and twitched as if she were trying to smell me out. The man held a sword, probably used to cut away branches or to scare me out of hiding. They both took several paces around before finding the trace I had left for them.

"Oye!" called the man, motioning to the woman. "Check this out, Babs."

Babs, as I assume her name was, sauntered over and snatched up the dress. She smiled as she pushed the dress to her bosom, her corn-yellow teeth visible from where I was crouched behind the tree. I thought ill of her at once, but then decided that at least Babs had all her teeth. Compare that to the dirty man who was probably taking Lumaria's horse back to their camp.

"Wouldn't I look pretty in this, Busby?" she said. She laughed and turned around, pretending she was a queen of sorts.

Busby (a strange name indeed--I wonder why they chose such awful names) scowled and grabbed the dress. "But what about the girl?" he said. "Flea knows where they take women to sell to noble houses. She'd get us a mountain of gold."

Instead of lashing out like I expected her to, Babs crossed her arms and pouted. "So I guess you're more interested in her than you are in me," she said, her nasally voice becoming even more annoying with every word. "You're going to spend all day searching for some... some... some GIRL we just found in the forest and not caring about me!" She began to force herself to cry. I could tell, as my friend Lisetta used the same tactic with whatever boy she was seeing at the time.

Whoa, wait, I hear you speaking. You have friends, Relena? Oh, people actually tolerate you, Relena? The answer is YES. Sheesh.

I still don't get how men fall for this trick, but they always do. Busby bit his lip and touched Babs's shoulder. "Hey," he said, "I didn't know... I just thought--"

"Nothing!" she screeched. I winced at the sound and wished she would stop. He was already falling for her ploy. Heedless of her advantage, she went into over-kill by scream-sobbing, "You never think about me or anything!"

Busby turned fuchsia. He removed his hand from her shoulder and sucked in his lips. He even looked away from her. Unless complete humiliation was what Babs was going for, she failed at manipulation.

"I try to be a good wife," she continued, "but you're just so… So difficult!"

I decided that with her screaming would simply serve to drive me insane. Either way, the longer I stayed, the greater my chances of being caught increased. I suppressed my hiss of pain and slipped away from the scene.

-hold on, there's more!-

The two men began their hike along the main trail behind the stables. The pace was a brisk walk that was much too fast for the men and much too slow for the dogs. The dogs pressed against their rope collars, each one wanting to dart ahead and force their masters to sprint after them. Conversely, the men held fast to the leads and lagged as much as they could in hopes of slowing the beasts' pace. The compromise pleased neither party, but the need to continue was far more important than the manner of getting there.

Both were silent, though their reasons were different. Greylan's silence was a more concerned lack of noise. He felt no need to speak, for all his energy had to go to finding Relena. Lumaria, on the other hand, was silent because he didn't really want to be there. If Relena was going to march off into the forest for no logical reason, then to hell with her. Why did Lumaria have to get mixed up with this lot?

After all, there were other bachelorettes available. There was Lady Genovive Alusette from the southern border of Galacia, and there was Lady Sharla Tierney of the east. And there were tales of Her Majesty, Princess Arikka of Thearun. They said she was the most beautiful woman alive. Lumaria could not help but wonder exactly what she looked like.

A part of him, however, said that none would ever compare to Relena. For some reason, as soon as he laid eyes on her, he had this feeling that their fates would forever be intertwined. It was a lame feeling, but it was a thought none-the-less.

Perhaps that was why he had actually bothered to come along and had not made himself scarce. He was rather good at disappearing when he was needed.

Lumaria was shaken from his reverie by Greylan pointing out a break in the path.

"Your horse heads this way," Greylan said, pointing down the dirt road, "and a trail of feet heads that way." Greylan glanced at Lumaria. "I'll follow your horse. You follow the people."

"Sounds good," said Lumaria. No further discussion was taken. The men split ways and headed off in their opposite directions, each in hopes of finding Relena.

-and now it's done-

**See y'all next week.**


	7. The Fall and the Dragonborn

**Hers**

**Happier Times**

**The First of Four**

**RAPE! RAPE! AHHH!!!**

**... Finals. It figures. I'm just going to shut up and let you get back to your Hersgasm now.**

-+-

"Lea!"

The green-haired man nearly dropped his coffee from the force of Love's hug. He was not, however, fortunate enough to swallow before she grabbed him, and thus a passing SWATbot was covered in coffee. The machine whirred and lifted a gun, but Lea yelped and grabbed Love's handkerchief from her hair and began wiping off his face.

"I'm really sorry," said Lea, ignoring Love's protests against using her accessories so. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," growled the SWATbot, lowering his gun. "If you weren't human, I'd have you roboticized."

The SWATbot left, leaving Lea with the usual dry taste in his mouth and Love's face contorted into a frown of confusion. Then, Lea handed Love her handkerchief and sighed. "Why'd you hafta go and do something stupid like that?"

Love scoffed and pushed Lea, glaring up at him. "You spit it out all over the cop, not me." She put her hands on her hips and stuck out her jaw. "_And_ you used my kerchief to clean him off." She waved the pick cloth angrily. "You expect me to put this in my hair? Huh?" She stuffed it in her pocket and shook her head before he could answer, "Nuh-uh, no way, Jose. You men can be as poorly dressed as you want, but _I_ have a fashion sense."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Lea grabbed Love around the waist and kissed her forehead. She returned the embrace and laughed. "It's good to see you," Lea said.

Love pulled away, grabbed his free arm and dragged him down the street. Her cherry-colored locks waved like a dog's tail in the dry windless day. Lea forced himself not to be distracted and catch up with her. Finally, they found a pace that suited them both, and a light conversation began to waft between the two.

"So," Lea began, "what brings you back to Robotropolis? I thought you were studying down in Central City." He stared down at her. She had no family up here; they had all moved to Emerald Village to retire by the shore. Certainly Christmas would be better with her family.

"You," said Love coyly. She rubbed her head against his shoulder. "I didn't want you to spend Christmas alone. Besides," she turned to glance in a passing window, "I missed you. And school's been hard. Finals." She looked up at him, crossed her eyes, and gagged. "ICCK!"

Lea couldn't help but laugh and push back some of her hair. They stopped; Love released his arm and threw her arms instinctively around his shoulders. They gazed at each other for a few moments.

It was Lea that broke the silence, "Is that all?" Love nodded. "Good," he whispered, and leaned in to kiss her a real welcome.

-+-

Shadows had a tendency to dance between alleys, eying passers-by with hateful glares and cold stares. Their yellow eyes flicked on and off, their disturbing way of blinking. It was debated on whether or not blinking was necessary, but the only person who had ever gotten close enough to a Shadow was Ansem, and of what had become of him was never spoken.

The congregation of Heartless in the Darkness of Robotropolis was held behind the Roboticization Building, a particularly dark alley that was known to a few hobos and drug-addicts that would wander the alley. The former would find nothing to eat; the latter would find it nice for a quick shot up into the stars. But today, no kid with money or man without managed to worm their way into the shady enclave.

Perched precariously atop an over-turned trash can was an Invisible. His forked tail curled around the ribbed steel body for support, though his black wings still had to flutter to keep him from falling atop one of the unfortunate Shadows or Neoshadows lurking near the front of the large mass of Heartless. He turned to a Large Body and nodded. Suddenly, all noise within the alley was silenced by the beating of the Large Body's massive belly.

"Yes, thank you," said the Invisible, motioning for the Large Body to return to its counterparts. It did so, and then the Invisible, Commander Lectus Isa, began his speech. "You realize why we are here, correct?" A chorus of affirmative answers rang through the alley, followed closely by more answers stating the contrary. Lectus sighed and shook his head. "You know this place?" The prior situation was repeated. "This is Mobius, the second most powerful world after the home of the Cursed King himself."

A hush crossed the crowd of Heartless. Lectus Isa's black blood boiled as he worked himself into a speech. "This is where the Queen of Light sits--the Wholes call her Aleena." Several Shadows gasped and begged to leave. Lectus reassured them, "No, there is no need to fear. She has been weakened." He turned and pointed to a large poster proclaiming the superiority of a man known to many as Ivo Robotnik. "This man has done half the job."

Cheers rang up in the alley. Lectus Isa silenced them before any of the SWATbots passing by noticed; the Heartless were fortunate, for the moment being. After a few moments, Lectus continued his speech. "We must hunt down this Queen and use her to open the gate to the world."

"Then what?"

Lectus turned to face the Neoshadow that had spoken. He grinned and replied, "We destroy this place and take her heart." His grin became more sickly in appearance. "Then, we shall watch the Light fall."

Cheers sprung up in the alleyway and Lectus Isa soared down from his trashcan, a bout of vile laughter consuming him.

-+-

Lost.

Dammit.

I should have let them find me. Then I might have been able to live. But it was far too late now. My ankle refused to move, I had no proper clothing, and hunger raged within my stomach. I told myself over and over that I would not cry. I would not cry. I... Would... Not...

A sob formed in my throat and I swallowed it. My eyes welled up with tears. I punched my arm to distract myself from my despair; it was futile. So I smacked my ankle and instantly cried out in pain. The tears came, and I was sobbing in minutes. I hated it. Crying was weak, and the Calanches were not weak. We might be one big bunch of raving lunatics, but we are not weak.

It was then that the silent sound of laughter rang through the forest. I glanced up, my crying ceasing instantly. I tried to stand and found I couldn't, so I began to crawl to the source of the noise.

The sound of music and dancing came after that, and as soon as I managed to get close enough to the bush where the music was coming from, the smell of food--good food--wafted through the air and into my nasal cavities. My mouth watered. I licked my lips. I reached forward and began to pull back the branches--

"Don't go near there!"

That was how I happened upon the ugliest little hermit that ever walked the world. She had a hunch-back and a limp in her shuffle. She carried a cane, but it did her little good. Her face was contorted into a mess of liver-spots and warts. If you've ever seen a witch in a storybook, which doubtless you have, then this woman looks just like it, sans the green skin.

"And why not?" I retorted. "There're people there, and food, and I'm hungry!" I turned back to the bush, but she stopped me by whacking my wounded ankle with her walking stick. I screeched in pain and pulled away from the bush. "Fine!" I glared at her. "Why?"

The old woman sighed and wobbled over to a log. She sat down with a groan and then looked me over with her bulgy black eyes. "It's a fairy circle," said the woman. "And an Unseelie one, too."

"_What?!_" I glanced at the bush and laughed. "Fairies? No, those are children's stories. It's a house, and there's food and--"

"If you eat the food, Dragonborn, you'll be there forever. It's a fairy circle, an entrance to Fairyland. Those fairies will want your skin and bones, girl."

I stared at the old lady, mouth agape. Finally, I found words. "What did you just call me?" Oh, I'm pretty sure you've been in my situation where someone says something and then they say other things, but you had no idea what they just said because you were so stuck on that first thing. Well, that's me. Dragonborn? What?

"Dragonborn," she said, groaning and standing up. "Come with me." She began to shuffle towards the woods. A path slowly began to appear before her.

I made a move as if to stand up and remembered my ankle. "Hey, lady!" I yelled. "Wait--I can't--!"

"Come on," she hissed. She didn't even bother looking back, but I stood anyway and found my ankle in perfect repair. I stared up at her in amazement and began to ponder, but she spoke again: "Hurry up or you'll be stuck with the Unseelie Court."

Unseelie is not a pleasant word, and this woman healed my leg. She was also bearing some omnipotent information--Dragonborn? I laughed nervously and began to follow her. Dragonborn.

And here I was, thinking that dragons, witches, and fairies were all stories for children.

-+-

The attack on Mobius was unforeseen by all but the Heartless. There was little resistance from Freedom Fighter nor SWATbot. Some say it was a painless death; no survivors have ever been found.

-+-

"Love?"

The couple was standing inside a gift shop, each one looking over the quaint merchandise to the sounds of "The Little Drummer Boy" and a loud woman screaming, "What do you mean I can't get this in another color?!" Love didn't seem to be bothered by anything; her adoration for the holidays was too great to be quashed by foolish trifles. Lea, however, was on-edge and constantly checking his watch.

"Yes, Lea?" Love glanced up at him. She smiled and handed him a red mug. "Look. It's perfect for Mother, don't you think?"

Lea nodded and took it, but he kept glancing at the window and tugging at his collar. "Love, I want you to know--"

"Lea, honey, what's wrong?" Love put her hand on his shoulder and tried to get him to face her.

Then he grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes, though he could not explain the reason why. "Love, don't ever stop being you." He kissed her and threw her out the door.

And then the building collapsed.

-+-

The trail of feet ended with the blood of two bandits that may have otherwise been known as Babs and Busby. Lumaria cleaned his sword on the grubby shirt of the she-bandit and sheathed his sword. Scraps sniffed the ground around the area and barked at an obvious trail leading deeper into the woods.

"Oh, great," grumbled Lumaria. "She went into the Drackenwood."

It figured, though; she had always seemed like the kind to wander alone, unarmed, and (as he guessed from the dress in his hands) in only her under-clothing. He sighed and took Scraps's lead. Suddenly, the nasally tone of Lady Genovive didn't seem so bad.

But he couldn't help but enjoy this visit. Relena, unlike the others, had obviously been a caged lion for quite some time. Once an animal is released from its cage, it does a whole bunch of crazy things before it manages to attain its natural instincts. Relena was just returning to her nature; that spit-fire, manipulative demon was a lot more amusing than some tame gossip with hair like gold.

He walked for some time before he found himself near the entrance to Pandemonium, home of the Unseelie Court. Darkness had since swallowed the Drackenwood, and Lumaria's body screamed for rest. With a sigh, Lumaria tied Scraps to a thin tree in the clearing and lay down on the grass. He had to sleep now, or he'd never find Relena.

-+-

"Lea!"

No answer.

"Lea!"

Tears smeared Love's make-up and glued her eyelashes into triangles.

"Lea!"

Crowds of people were running around her, like an ocean of faces, and not one was Lea. A baby cried. A woman lay on the side of the streets, clinging to it even in her death.

"Le--!"

And then his arms were around her, trying to pull her out of the way, get her somewhere safe.

Robotropolis was on fire. SWATbots and Freedom Fighters were dying in the streets, fighting Heartless, fighting each other, fighting civilians.

"Lea, I love you," she said to him. And that was all she would ever say again.

-+-

The old woman's house was not much different from the woman herself. It was homely, smelly, and falling down on one side. I stared at the little shack for nigh on five minutes before she shoved me inside the creaky front door.

Inside, however, it was not a disgusting hole in the swamp. Its large, stately rooms looked like the trees themselves and the ceiling was a banner of stars. The moon was half-full; her face was so close I thought I could touch it. I turned back to stare at the woman and found that she was nowhere to be seen. In her place was a tall woman with hair like a silver tassel.

"You--"

"What were you expecting?" she said, her voice younger but still in the same tone. "You'd think I'd be living in swamp bottom? Hah! Humans!" She waved her hand and out came several dryads. Each one carried a basket full of food and lay them on the ground. A satyr plodded from the trees' edge and lay a bowl of clear water on the grass. She sat in front of the water and motioned for me to begin eating while she attended to "forest business".

While I found it quite strange to be eating with an elf that had been a hag only moments before, my hunger trumped my curiosity. I took large mouthfuls of bread and meat and cheese and berries until I had my fill. Then I glanced over at the water. "Is that for washing?" I asked.

She gave me a look that made my skin crawl. "Sacrilege!" she barked. "Dragonborn you may be, but the sacred river of Lors Tani will forever be untainted by human hands!" I didn't bother arguing that the bowl was not the river. Elsee told me many a story about the heroes that found themselves without tongues due to arguing with elves.

Finally, she turned to me and smiled. "Dragonborn!" she said, obviously forgetting her previous bout of temper. "I welcome you to Drachenwood."

"What!?"

Many people in the villa had come to Drachenwood. Some said there was great treasure inside. No one ever returned from Drachenwood alive, or so the stories went.

The elf knew of these stories, for she quickly explained. "Many humans enter, and most all of them die." She laughed and waved to a grotesque pile of skulls sitting near a tree. "But," she continued, "that is because they come with malevolence in their hearts. They want to hurt my trees and my animals." Her face clouded briefly, though she soon returned to her cheery mood. "But you have come here, and I have seen who you are." She took my hands in hers. "Dragonborn, you have the power to save our world, should you awaken the sleeping dragons."

-+-

"Love..?"

Love wasn't there. Instead, the grisly face of a blond man greeted Lea's eyes. "He's alive," said the man in his nasally tenor voice and he disappeared from vision.

"Good," said another voice, a deeper voice. "I'll tell the Superior, then."

There was the sound similar to a vacuum, and the room was silent except for the whirring of computers. Lea's consciousness began to drift. Whirrrrrr....

Lea jolted up into a sitting position. Computers! Roboticization! Lea tried to esacpe, but his legs wouldn't move. They were held down to a table; he had to fight--

The vacuum sound returned, and a hooded figure appeared. "Your name, boy?" He spoke slowly, yet venom dripped from every syllable as if he had hissed it in half the time.

"L-Lea, sir."

As soon as he spoke, letters spelled out his name in the sky. They began to dance and twirl back and forth until finally the hooded man threw out his arm. The letters ceased and a large X stood between them.

"Axel."

Lea stared at the word for a few moments, and then said it himself: "Axel. Yeah? And?"

"That's your name now," said the hooded figure. "Sleep well."

And then everything went black.

-+-

**No, I didn't see the crossover coming.**

**No, the old woman wasn't supposed to an elf.**

**No, this chapter wasn't supposed to be this long.**

**You lucked out this time.**

**And yes, Axel is the only other member I'll do this for. The other one... Well, you'll have to find out for yourself.**

**If you can guess whose Heartless Lectus Isa is, you get a special dedication in the next chapter.  
**


	8. The Rite of the Dragon

**Hers****  
Happier Times  
The First of Four**

**To kick things off, I would sincerely like to apologize for the time it took to update. My internet has been out for quite some time. I do, however, have Chapter Nine nearly done. Since these are getting so long (and I'm starting to love where this story is going), it will take longer to update. Chapter 9 is already 9.5 8x11 pages long in Wordpad, and it's not done yet.**

**Prior error in chapter seven: Swamp Bottom should be capitalized. Yes, it was a Hazao Miyazaki reference.**

**During the time between chapter six and chapter eight, I have picked up ****The Mirror of Her Dreams****, ****The Dark Tower****, ****Dragon Riders of Pern****, ****Dragon Lance****, and ****The Forgotten Realms****. We also had a LotR movie fest. And I designed the world of Galacia to have tons of fantasy elements. All of this influence will probably show. Oh god, Tetsuya Nomura's probably going to have a heart attack if he sees a fantasy addict like me get a hold of Wordpad and his game.**

**I own everything that belongs to me, and you should know what does and doesn't. BTW, for those Sonic dabblers who went, "WTH Robotropolis?" last chapter should know that it's not Archie, AStAM, or AoStH. It's Sonic Underground. Ohhh yeaahhh! Love is also a real name, just like Grace, Charity, Hope and Faith. I ALSO have a pre-KH Saix history for an RPG that involved a woman named Corazon. Have fun with that.**

**iKitty is correct--Lectus Isa is Saix's heartless. We'll see him again, and Love too. Don't worry...  
**

**I'm doing too much typing A/N now. God, I love introductions and talking to people. Can you tell?**

---

Silence.

Then, I spoke.

"What the fuck is your problem, lady?" I said, tugging at my hair and attempting to process what she just said. Sure, her hair might sparkle like the stars in the sky, her eyes might dance like a river, and her figure might be as limber as the willow tree, but what does that have to do with anything? Elf does _not_ translate to genius, and the Elves in stories, while similar to her in appearance and elegance, must not really be Elves in intelligence. I gaped for a while at her "dancing eyes" and "sparkling hair" (as Luwendrel of the ancient stories was oft described to having) and imagined her as the wise and wily Elf maidens of heroism.

Can you imagine her as one of those? Good. Neither can I, so it's not just me.

My beautiful-yet-brainless companion did not giggle as I expected her to. Instead, her face darkened and she snapped. In galloped four centaurs, two for show and the others carrying a strange bundle. "I have brought you here," she said. "I have played games with your minds since he has arrived. I nearly got you during the trolling," a flicker of agitation crossed her face and passed soon as it came. She continued, as diplomatic as she always wasn't, "But unfortunately my trolls were unable to separate you from the hunt during their mad scramble in the sun."

"Wait, what?" OK, now I was completely lost. At first I thought she was a rambling lunatic, but she knew of the trolling. I hadn't even bothered to mention trolls, much less anything else. And she brought me here? "You mean to tell me you've been controlling me?"

The Elf laughed and the centaurs, now standing behind her with their blanketed bundle, joined in the cacophony. "I, the Great Mish'uwei of the Dragon's Grove, controlling minds!" Great, now I have a name to strap to the crazy chick. "No," she said, returning to her state of anger, "I cannot control minds. I can," she raised a hand to silence any of my questions, "however, I can implant thoughts and ideas into minds. It's your choice whether or not to act on them." She gave me a self-satisfied smile. "It's a good thing you and your Prince act on the first thoughts that appear in your head."

I could not find a word in my vocabulary that would compensate for the sudden sickening that passed over me. The centaurs placed their burden on the grass and vanished as they had come--silent, ominous. Uwei sat in smug satisfaction, her hair streaming over one shoulder as she gazed once more into the bowl of water that apparently was a river. "Even now I can see what you are thinking, Dragonborn," she said. It was hard to read whether or not Uwei meant it as an insult or a brag. From what I knew of Uwei, it was probably both.

I half-way considered replying, "What am I thinking?", but held back the urge. I also supposed it was best to let the topic of minds drop, and a lurching thought in the back of my mind wondered if it had been me or Uwei doing the thinking. I sat for a long, painful moment, trying to sort out my next question in a way that wouldn't let Uwei get what she wanted, but since I didn't know what she wanted, I had to rely on paranoia.

Paranoia is never good, and after enough thought, the part of me that I know is Relena said, "Why do you keep calling me 'Dragonborn'?"

"Because that is what you are."

That was the most useless answer in the entire human history, and I let her know in a way that showed my annoyance at such a vague answer.

"It was the answer none-the-less," replied Uwei, toying with a silver lock of hair. "Perhaps you should ask more specific questions if you want a specific answer."

I told her I wasn't used to dealing with Elves, so sod off. I might have also insulted her teeth--they were pretty bad.

To that, she shrugged. "Specific questions will get you specific answers from anyone." She looked up at me, bored with this turn of events. "I could explain that, but what would you learn from it?" She ignored the teeth thing. It probably hit a nerve, though, for she rose her hand to her mouth and scratched at her lip.

I considered screaming and demanding an explanation of everything, but she had a point. If I was to be queen, would I not need some practice at asking good questions? Unfortunately, that needs patience, and I have none of that. Gritting my teeth, I said, "What does that mean, though? Do I have any special powers?"

"Ah!" she exclaimed. Uwei smiled and caressed my shoulder. "Now we are getting somewhere," she said. She then launched into an explanation. "Dragonborn means that your ancestors had an ancient pact with the dragons. It doesn't affect every member of your bloodline. In fact, it's extremely rare that everyone in a family have the Dragonborn capacity. Normally one or two every four generations is what we see. And it simply means that if a Dragonborn was to present a proper sacrifice to the untainted Lors Tani, the dragons would be released into the world and rise to fulfill the Dragonborn's wishes."

Are you catching all of that? I understood a bit better, but it still wasn't enough to satisfy my need to know what was going on. "You said one or two every three generations are Dragonborn, right?" Uwei nodded, and I asked my next question: "Am I the only one?" To this, Uwei shook her head. "Who is the other?"

"Your brother," Uwei said. "No, not the big ugly one. The smart one."

Candace? Candace is dead, and I told her just that.

"No, he's not."

I asked her where he is, but she deterred me, saying that it wasn't important and I'd never see him again anyway. "Focus on the here and now," she said, twirling her hair again.

Candace still dominated my thoughts as I asked, "What is this sacrifice? What do I have to do?"

"Now we get to the interesting part," she purred. She turned to touch the bundle. "To save our world," she said, as if she was reciting some ancient text instead of talking to me, "the Dragonborn must spill the blood of the Manthrone Heir." Her tattooed hand flew back as the top sheet pulled away to reveal the body inside.

--

It had been three days, and there was no word of Lumaria nor Relena. Greylan had been combing the woods, searching for anything that might lead them closer to the vanished couple. Some say it had been staged so that the two might elope. Others believed that bandits had stole them away. It was not possible, however, as they had found three bandit camps and slaughtered every living thing that would not cooperate. Bartering with bandits is rarely an easy chore, and the blood on Greylan's armor and tack was beginning to cake worse than incidents at skirmishes.

The death and lack of any witnesses was disheartening. Lord Calanche was ready to call off the search. Rumor had it that Lord Calanche would send Greylan as tribute to the King as a way to make up for the loss of the only heir to the throne. Such words drove Greylan's pursuit harder, as he did not want to imagine what the king would do to him before Death finally opened her arms and welcomed him in.

After all, there was but one witness and two dead bodies (as well as the dress Relena was wearing) to serve as clues. The witness, with all due misfortune, spoke Poor Common and only served to stink anyone out of the room of questioning. The dead bodies proved the same thing that the others did--naught but a bloodshed in the woods. And Relena's dress...

They would either be dead or shipped to the Thearunian border, or perhaps they were being taken to Shalazar. Greylan could not let that happen, yet he couldn't spare the men to head down along the trade routes to find slaves in Shalazar. And, of course, Thearun was so much closer.

Another option loomed over his head, and Greylan personally preferred Shalazar to his horrid notion. Yet when Scraps was found dead on the dawn of the fourth day, Greylan could ascertain the fate of the two. They had both survived the bandits. After that, they were at the mercy of Drachenwood.

How could he have let this happen? Greylan clutched at his short hair, jet-colored as his father's, sister's, and brother's. Would he waste his men's lives by sending them off intro Drachenwood? Or would Greylan send himself to pay for the life of the Prince? Would the search be worth it if they were dead? Would his death be worth it if they were alive?

He'd have to give it time...

"You really shouldn't tug at your hair, Malvinor," came a hazy voice from across the room. "You'll go bald."

Greylan glanced up to see the wilted figure of Lady Calance leaning against the door pane. In his dismay, he had forgotten that she had requested Relena's presence but five days ago. What had she wanted to say? He doubted it was anything important. Lady Calanche no longer recognized anyone. Her voice, while still trying to hold its rigid and commanding tone, had grown weak. Her once proud posture and physique had slumped and shriveled until she was but a shadow of herself. Her hair was no longer platinum, but more of thin strands of gray.

"Greetings, Mother," he said, placing one hand on the desk before him. "I'm surprised to see you in the library."

The wrinkles on her face contorted into shock. "Oh, Greylan, is that you?" she exclaimed, though her voice could hardly raise above a strained whisper. "You've grown so big!"

At least she knew his name now, Greylan supposed. He sighed and stood, walking over to help the Lady to the reading sofa by the fire. "You aren't attended today, Mother," he said. "Where is Ilene? I'll call her..."

"That won't be necessary," she said, placing a fragile hand on his arm. He observed that Lord Calanche was at least ten years older than his Lady, yet she twice as old in appearance. Silently, Greylan cursed his brother and the nerve he had to run off with that stupid Thearunian princess five years prior. Had he not cared for his mother's health? Greylan prayed that, in some dark Thearunian winter, his brother had died heart-broken and miserable. It was all Candace deserved for making Lady Calanche this way.

While on the inside Greylan felt like sobbing, he managed to give his mother a reassuring smile. "So, what brings you to the library?" he said, sitting next to her on the sofa. Thoughts of Relena flitted through his mind, yet he pushed them away. His mother was semi-lucid and he would take this advantage here and now.

"I came," she said, and then promptly fell into a far-away state. The few moments of her waking-dream were agonizing, yet she eventually awoke and remembered what she wanted to say. "I came to tell Relena," she said, "that she should never trust an Elf."

What? That's what she wanted to say? Greylan swore at Candace again and hoped the wolves ate his corpse. "And why would you say that?" he said.

A wistful smile crossed Lady Calanche's features. It seemed that the real Lady Calanche was still somewhere inside, and it showed in her hazel eyes. "Greylan," she said, "Elves never lie, but the truth they tell is the truth to them." Greylan's hopes crashed at that.

And then he thought of Drachenwood. There were stories of an Elf in Drachenwood. He thought of the stories Elsee told. One of her lines from the story stuck out in his mind. It was the ballad of Luwendrel and Jaron, and at one point it had been said that the Truth to Elves was always a lie to the Race of Men.

"Relena's in Drachenwood," he murmured.

"As I feared," she said. Lady Calanche gave him a distant look. "She is still alive, as is he." Greylan's puzzlement showed on his face, but he dared not interrupt. "If he dies, we die by Dragon. If he lives, we die by Darkness."

"How do you know?" he said, his voice raising too much. It was then that Lady Calanche lost it. She began to babble on about Candace and how her babe would leave her. Greylan stood, called Ilene, and had Lady Calanche taken away. After that, Greylan sat at the library desk and cried.

--

Uwei handed me a long knife. She gave me one of her smiles. "If you release the dragons," she said, "we may yet live." I trusted her for some reason. Elves didn't lie, did they? I _could_ save the world. I could _change_ fate. My family would live, and it wasn't like Lumaria was any great loss to me.

The hilt of the knife was cool. The blade was curved and excellently crafted. It reflected my face, and I knew it would soon be red with blood. I had no other choice, it seemed. I imagined meeting Lumaria in the afterlife years from now. It would be funny when he asked me why I killed him. Well, Lumy, it was you or the world, I would say, and then laugh at him.

I even had my hand on his shoulder and was preparing to lift him. It was then that he sighed in his sleep. The noise distracted me and I gazed down into his face. I set my knife down. What had Lumaria done for me? He had given me flowers, which I would have accepted had Uwei not poisoned my mind with such horrid thoughts. He had been a jerk when we first met, but he was at least a cute jerk. And he had given me a name that, in retrospect, wasn't so ugly after all.

But the fate of the world sat in the other hand. I had to revive the dragons and save the world from... From what? What did Uwei want me to do? I remembered Oubrei, the King of the Elves. He had tricked Jaron into jilting Luwendrel so that he could save her. But Oubrei failed to mention that Jaron was saving Luwendrel from having to be bedded by a human such as he. And so did Luwendrel marry Oubrei and raise her children to hate the likes of Men.

Was I saving the world from the Rule of Men? Was that what Uwei wanted?

A chant rose from the forest. The tongue was foreign, and I was certain it was some form of Elvish. Out of the trees came creatures, each one with silver or gold or light cinnamon hair. Elves. They all sang in their language, and Uwei was all to happy to translate.

"Into the Lors Tani shall pure blood flow," she whispered, "so that dragons may taste its sweet drink and rise from their slumber."

Lumaria murmured in his sleep and stirred. He was waking. I grimaced. If he woke up, the Elves would kill him. But, of course, if that were true, why didn't they kill him themselves? It had never occurred to me that Uwei couldn't kill Lumaria because I was the only one able to wake the dragons. A logical deduction, with a voice similar to Greylan's, told me the murder must also be voluntary on the Dragonborn's part. Otherwise Uwei would have forced me into this.

"Kill him." The voice of Uwei was now in my left ear. She had the Lors Tani in her hands. I gazed into the water. In it, I could see myself. I blinked, and then Lumaria was there. Dark spectators watched as we circled in and out in a graceful movement. It was then covered by darkness, and then by light. Then it was simply water. "Kill him and let it be done."

I raised the knife. Lumaria's eyes opened. He was awake long enough to see the knife descend.

--

**Killing you with another cliffhanger. Suspense!**


	9. I Like My Elves Dead

**Hers  
****Happier Times  
The First of Four**

**I think I'm half-way there. Maybe, but I'm not sure.**

--

A horrid cry silenced everyone in the grove. The Elves looked on in horror as red blood hit the grass and the Lors Tani fell to the ground, spilling its contents. Uwei stared up at me in shock and dismay as she clutched her bleeding wrist to her chest. Lumaria sat up, reaching for his sword. He found he could not get it from his sheath, as the bindings placed upon him by the centaurs were far too tight.

"Y-You... What did you do?" Uwei said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Without the Lors Tani, we will die."

"And it's a good thing, too," I retorted. "You Elves are all the same--sneaky and self-centered."

Uwei laughed and observed her wrist, which had been torn open. She'd probably be dead soon. "I don't get it," she said. "I saw in my dream the knife covered in blood. And I guess I'm right. The knife was red with blood, but with the blood of Elf instead of Man." She glanced up at me, her eyes losing their luster, her skin its glow, and her hair its radiance. "I have been foolish," she whispered, "to think I could tamper with fate." She shook her head. "No, not even Mer can deal with her hand..."

She was dead before I had Lumaria freed on his feet. The Elves, also losing their ethereal lights, did not watch us leave. For this, we were grateful. I spoke little to him until we were certain that Drachenwood was far behind us.

--

_Am I dead?_

Love opened her eyes. The world around her was green and beautiful, yet she could not find elation in that fact. That answered her first question.

_Have I been roboticized?_

Her fleshy limbs, freedom of thought and lack of post-roboticization pains, as well as the absence of any SWATbots, Croonies, or Badniks, proved this one to be false as well.

_Why do I feel like crying?_

She couldn't say she had an answer to that one. And then it came to her: Lea. Lea was dead and she, Love, was in this strange place. A pang struck in her heart as she observed the clear skies and sounds of birds. She was reminded of the Mobius of her girlhood, fifteen years prior, before Mobodoon fell and became Robotropolis. The skies had been blue, not clouded with Robotnik's vicious industry. The air was sweet and breathable. All her friends were still of Flesh. No SWATbots patrolled Night Babylon, Central City, or even Emerald Village.

Love rose to her knees and found herself to still be clothed in the outfit she wore when she greeted Lea, coffee-stained kerchief and all. She was dirty, yet in one piece. When the building collapsed, something had happened...

_I told Lea I loved him._

The remembrance brought tears to her eyes. The tears left trailed in her dust-stained cheeks. Lea. Where was Lea? He must have been dead, for nothing else could have happened...

_But I'm alive, aren't I?_

No, it's not possible, she reminded herself. She was a physics major at Central City University. It was unlikely for someone to survive when a building topples upon them, and impossible for the person to wake up, uninjured, in a place that doesn't exist on one's own planet.

_What am I doing here, then?_

"Well, Love," she said aloud, just to keep herself from cracking, "if I knew that, I wouldn't be asking me in the first place." She then began to laugh. The sounds were forced and alien to her, and she could feel her sanity waning. She was alone, however, so it wasn't like anyone could watch the valedictorian of Robotropolis South High waste her intelligence away into insanity.

Suddenly, noises in the bushes around her alerted her to others in her presence. Love stood, wishing she had a weapon. Many people in Robotropolis carried guns of some sort. Even Lea had his own hand-pistol. But no, Love insisted that Central City was safe from criminals. The Freedom Fighters were in Robotropolis--that was the capital, was it not?

"Dammit."

My sentiments exactly, thought Love as she examined the utterer of the words. It was a girl, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen. Her short dress might have been white at one time, and her jet hair might have been clean. Behind her came a man in a stained doublet and carrying a sword. Love observed that he might have been only three years younger than she, and she was nearly twenty-three. Yet there was blood on the sleeve of his shirt, and she was irked at the chance that it might not be his. She also noticed the blood smear on the girl's white dress and squirmed.

"It's exactly as I told you," the girl said, throwing her arms out. "Some foreigner gets to see _me_, the great daughter of Lord Malvinor Calanche, walk naked down a public street!" Naked? Love considered the dress plain, but she certainly wasn't naked. Before Love could protest, the girl continued, "And you told me no one would notice. Hah!" She poked him in the chest. "I should have sacrificed you, but you're grateful I thought of everyone else instead of you."

To this, the man laughed. "Well, the boy here obviously won't be telling anyone else about you," he snickered. "It's not like you're a great beauty." He was slapped, but it didn't shut him up. "He'll probably be all like, 'Lady Relena looks as if her mother were a troll, and she snarls like a wolf!' Hahah, what a tavern tale that would be."

The girl and the man soon began to scream things at each other, and it wasn't long before Love soon realized that there was no man here. Either these people were daft or they had mistaken her for a boy. But how? Was she not dressed in feminine fashions, with cute furry boots and skinny jeans?

"Excuse me, but who are you talking about?" she said, placing her hands on her knees. She hadn't stood up yet and could not get her legs to function. Perhaps she didn't want to.

Both turned to stare at Love. Finally, the girl, Relena as Love figured, exclaimed, "Lumaria, he's not a man at all!" Her features changed from rage to disgust and she turned away from Love. "Oh, dear Artemis, she wears pants! A woman in pants!"

Lumaria, as Love figured from what Relena had called him, also grimaced. "She's probably some Thearunian," he muttered. "Their women wear pants and furs all year round for the cold." His hand flew to his sword. "She's not a White One as most of those bastards are, but it matters not."

Love understood their High Common (she had made use of it in certain Literature classes, yet few spoke the High Common on Mobius now), but what they were saying flew over her head. She did, however, understand when Lumaria's hand rested on the sword's hilt. "No!" she cried. She stumbled back and flailed her arms over her head, trying to stop his approach. He had her at sword point in two heart-beats, and Love could not find any sense to move. She could only sob.

"Who are you?" Lumaria said cooly, pressing the flat end of the blade under her chin. At her incoherent squealing, Lumaria pressed harder and said, "Speak."

"Do it fast or I'll be the one gutting you," snarled Relena, who paced back and forth behind Lumaria. The blood on her dress and the glimmer in her green eyes told no lies.

Love swallowed hard and finally found the words she had, moments before, not been able to think of. "I am Love Miranda Jameson," she said, her voice quivering. "I come from Central City of the continent of Arksalon, on the planet of Mobius." At Lumaria's inquisitive glance, Love explained, "We were attacked by strange beasts, and now I'm here." She then added, "And all women dress like this on Mobius. It's fashion. We also wear skirts, but jeans are comfier and warmer." A flush tinted her cheeks. "It was winter. Christmas, actually..."

Lumaria did not seem satisfied with her answer, but he returned his sword anyway. It was at perfect timing, for it was then that a troupe of riders passed up the road.

"They ride under the flags of Calanche!" cried out Relena. A smile crossed her face. "Lumy, we're saved!"

Lumaria forgot Love's possible threat and took Relena's simple elation. It had been a hard day for him, and he would be pleased to return to the Villa.

Love, in the meantime, tried to find some joy in her situation. She had just been spared by a man who might have wanted to kill her. She was alive, and no one was roboticized here. There was no huge division between Man and Mobian here. But all she could think of were her parents, her grandmother, her friends, and, most importantly, Lea.

--

When we returned, Greylan rushed out to meet us. At first I believed he would run to hug me. Then I remembered that I knew Greylan better than that. He might have been a good brother to me, but affectionate he was not. He slowed to a lope as he came closer. He stopped half-a-foot in front of me and grabbed my shoulders.

"Relena!" he yelled, shaking me hard. I could hardly keep my head up. "Relena, where--what--why?!" He made a noise like a cow giving birth and threw me to the ground. My indignant cries gave way to understanding. He had been worried about me. Shame washed over me, and the explanation I gave earlier to Lumaria would not come to Greylan.

Lumaria might have said something, yet the main patrol officer urged the men to deliver Love forward to Greylan. She dismounted with ease ("I've ridden horses before," she had explained to Lumaria on the trip here), yet walking seemed to be a challenge for her. I snickered; Lumaria kicked me in the small of my back and told me to shut up.

"We've got a prisoner," said Jurl, the head guardsman at Calanche Villa. He kept a good eye on her, yet it would be hard for her to run very far in those strange boots. Jurl knew that, but diligence never failed him. Nothing happens under Jurl's watch, so he would always say. Of course, if nothing ever happened under Jurl's watch, we wouldn't be in this situation. Then again, I can't blame Jurl. Uwei had a lot to do with the previous day's events.

Greylan grabbed the chin of Love. His hazel eyes scoured her face over once, twice, then he released her. "Call a manservant for Lumaria and Elsee for Relena," he said to several Villa guards that accompanied him out. They hustled away. He pointed at half of Jurl's company. "Go call in other scouts. Bring horns." The riders nodded and turned their mounts to the stables to retrieve the hunt horns before heading out.

Greylan glanced up at Jurl. "Take her to the slave quarters. Clean her up and send her to me." He smiled at Love, and I shuddered. I knew men could be vulgar, but I never thought of my own brother... "I need to evaluate her before I give her to the Prince as payment for this disaster." Jurl nodded, took Love onto his horse and cantered off.

As soon as they were gone, Greylan turned to Lumaria and me. "I will expect an explanation as soon as you are rested, cleaned, and," he shot a condescending glare at my petticoat, "dressed." He then marched toward the manse, leaving me and Lumaria to follow.

--

Elsee practically died when she saw me. Half of it was relief. The other was shock. She half-led, half-dragged me up the stairs and into my chambers, screaming about me being filthy, naked, and endangered. She had heard of Scraps' demise (I felt a twist in my gut when I was told Scraps was dead) and almost fainted when she was told that I wandered into Drachenwood.

"I don't know how you got out of there alive!" she laughed as she pushed me into the washbasin. She took care of my mess of hair while I cleaned the blood and grime from my legs and torso. After my bath, I was groomed like a racehorse on game day. Elsee tied my hair into a braid and wove it around my head. The pale blue satin of my gown matched my mother's pallid features more than mine, yet I argued not against it as Elsee escorted me to the library.

On the way, Elsee told me that Greylan had returned from war because Father had finally convinced Commander Norbeck to relieve Greylan from service. It had been a devastating loss for the army, and perhaps an even greater loss for Greylan. In eight days, he had converted the library into his private study. This confused me, as Greylan had only been home for four days. But I hadn't time to ask for clarification, as we soon reached our destination.

I, like anyone else, rarely went into the library these days. Any good books had already been read. The others were mostly reference for persons unlike myself. Thus, it was strange to see myself standing outside the grand double-doors that concealed the knowledge of Calanche Villa. The two-room library must have been the grandest building in the manse, as it features walls lined with books, a fireplace, and large, full-length windows and matching red velvet curtains. I always loved this room as a child. It had lost none of its warmth and loveliness since I was there last.

Lumaria was already there. I grimaced, disappointed at being outdone by him again. He smiled and I stuck out my lower lip. This caused him to laugh to himself and turn his attention back to Greylan.

Elsee was nervous with leaving me again, but Greylan's somber face made her reconsider her idea of staying. "I'll just be leaving, m'lord," she said, gathering up her skirts and hustling out of the room. She shut the door behind her and I could hear her footsteps passing down the hall.

For a while, no one said anything. It became a staring contest between Lumaria and Greylan, and I fidgeted in my chair. Finally, Greylan spoke. "What did you do to my sister?" he snarled at Lumaria. Lumaria shot me a puzzled look and shrugged. Impatient, Greylan said, "Speak, dog!"

Lumaria jumped and turned his attention back to Greylan. His manner of replying was the same as always, though a wedge of discomfort could be seen in his posture. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "And is that any way to speak to a prince?"

"I wouldn't care if you were the king!" retorted Greylan, rising to his feet. He was so much like Mother--firm and confident, with a harsh temper and an intolerance for foolery. It showed in his eyes, hazel as hers had been. "I saw her mostly unclothed. Both you and her were covered in blood."

"The blood on me was from the bandits," Lumaria protested. I could feel Lumaria's anger pulsing--it was dangerous, and I was certain that Greylan could feel it, too. "She left the dress in the woods--"

"What of the blood on her, then?"

Lumaria glanced towards the bookshelves, simmering in defiance and anger. I fidgeted again, and then Greylan took notice of me. "Where were you for five days?" he hissed.

Both of us glanced up in horror. "Five days?" I screamed at the same time as Lumaria said, "'Twas one night!"

Greylan's face turned from rage to confusion. He slumped back into his chair, placing his hand to his temples. "You have some explaining to do."

Lumaria and I glanced at each other. He gestured at me. I shook my head. Finally, he convinced me to do the talking.

"I hate Elves," I began. "I really, really, _really_ hate Elves."

--

"And this is the truth?"

It had taken nearly two hours to get the full explanation to Greylan in a way he understood it. Lumaria and I both repeated everything countless times and tried to explain what we could. At the end, it was as clear as mud, and we had reached a conclusion that Elves and Time do not have the same schedules.

That explained the "only one night" thing.

"If it's not the truth," I said, "then I'm a troll."

"And I'm her," Lumaria quipped. I punched him in the arm and he winced, still laughing.

Greylan tugged at his hair and groaned. "I still don't understand," he grumbled. Then he glanced up at us, still suspicious. "Do you have any proof?"

"I have the knife," I said. "I kept it." And I should. It was such a pretty blade. To prevent wasted time with Greyaln asking for its location, I said, "It's in my quarters. I'll bring it to you tomorrow."

Greylan nodded and glanced out the high window. It was dark (no, not a dark and stormy night), and the moon shone upon the fields and stables, giving it an eerie feeling. I thought of Love in the slave quarters. I had only attended the quarters once. They were a miserable place with a wicked draft and not enough room to house all those beds. Perhaps that was why the capitol was beginning to frown upon slavery, even the slaves of war we got from Thearun.

"Is that all?" he said. His voice seemed so distant that I feared he had left to join Mother Dearest in whatever la-la land she lived in. "A simple knife to kill an Elf..." He shook his head and returned to Terra. "I believe we've reached any conclusions that can be attained in our discussion." God, he sounded formal. "You two are dismissed." He stood and shooed us toward the door. Apparently, he was eager to leave, and I thought of Love again as Lumaria and I headed off in the opposite direction that Greylan went.

"I hate Elves," Lumaria muttered to me. I glared up at him, but could sense no teasing in his voice. "Nearly convinced you to kill me." He sighed, then stopped. Out of reflex, I stopped as well. "Don't tell anyone else about this, okay?" He placed a hand on my shoulder and, much to my surprise, I did not push it away.

I couldn't explain it, but I didn't hate him anymore. There was something about that moonlight, his declaration of hatred for Elves, and the fact that he really wasn't as bad as I thought he was that just made him less awful. I wrestled with the fact that I had judged him.

Yet... I couldn't just start being nice to him. I was too proud to allow that, so I pushed his hand away and said, "I won't talk if you don't." He found that amusing and he laughed. I joined his laughter and we soon got so loud that several servants came just to see what the matter was.

One of the servants was Lumaria's manservant, and he suggested that perhaps the Prince needs his sleep after such a journey. Lumaria nodded and said that he really was tired, and I agreed (though I left out the fact that Lumaria had been sleeping the whole time and that it was me who eliminated the threat). Lumaria bowed to me before exiting and I could not help feeling flattered.

As I returned to my rooms, I thought of our recent adventures. Had it really been a week? It felt so much shorter. Then again, I reasoned as I pushed open the door to my sleeping chambers, I _had_ been with an Elf for most of the time. And Elves and Time do not agree.

Elsee was probably away eating or fussing over something else. I didn't want to wait for her. I wasn't even sure if I wanted her around. After so much had happened, she'd probably just annoy me with endless questions and ask me exactly what Lumaria and I were doing.

And hey--if I can out-wit an Elf, I can get myself into my own bedclothes. I managed just fine without Elsee and found that sleeping was a bit more comfortable without her hawking over me like a chicken over her clutch.

As my eyes closed, I thought for a moment of Lumaria and how he wasn't so bad after all. And then I realized that Love would probably be with Greylan right now. Poor Love, I laughed to myself, and slipped into dreams.

--

So far, Love could only be certain of two things. One: no one here had ever seen a robot, much less a toilet, and two: this place was definitely not Mobius. Arksalon had been taken over by Robotnik. Kalnarch, the sister-continent to Arksalon, was still under Acorn rule. And Soleanna, the one across the seas and to the south, was much warmer than this. She had asked one of the slaves for the name of the country and continent and was appalled to find out how little he knew about geography. As far as the slave boy was concerned, Calanche Villa was the whole world. It could have been a possibility that Calanche was the name of the country, but the Prince Lumaria was not from Calanche Villa.

And that was all she knew her current situation. Knowing that little frightened her beyond comparison. Love needed to know everything--or almost everything--or she'd flip out. That was why she never attended the Mobius church. She didn't want to be bogged down with people telling her that her mind would never comprehend the ideas of some unnamed authority that controlled everything. And she didn't want to be here, even though the biology and physics remained the same as it was on Mobius. The only difference was that the animals couldn't talk and there were no Mobians here.

What, then, was this place, world of only Man? There was something about that fact that perturbed her; she couldn't imagine life outside of Arksalon, let alone on a world of only Man! Even Soleanna had its Mobians, and it was controlled by Man, as it always had. And furthermore, the idea of Man owning other Man, a practice the Mobians of both Arksalon and Kalnarch and the Men of Soleanna frowned upon, did not sit right with her. Yet now she was little more than a possession for a grand house.

How utterly disgusting, she thought to herself, observing the course materials she had been told to wear. They were ugly and stained and the hem was too short, yet she had little room to complain. Mareth, the woman who welcomed her, had told her that the hemming needed to be done on her own, and complaints were not acceptable. She had been friendly enough, but Mareth did not bother explaining more of the world, much less why most of the slaves were albino or where they came from. Mareth had Duties to Do, as she said with such emphasis. And thus, Love was alone, staring out into the cool night.

She began to wonder what it would have been like if Robotropolis hadn't been attacked. She had gone to spend Christmas with Lea. Without a doubt, his other friends would have been there. She didn't like his friends much--they hated Mobians and Freedom Fighters--but they were good people. Perhaps after visiting around, they would have walked down the streets and headed to Lea's house before curfew came and the SWATbots would begin their patrol.

In the shelter of the apartment, he would tell her ridiculous stories about a childhood where skies were blue. She would hang on to every word he said, realizing how much she missed him these past few months. Then he would smile at her and say, "I love you," just as she always wanted him to. The fantasy was so livid that when the door opened, she expected Lea to walk into the room and declare that he was going to take her far away from this place and things would return to normal.

Instead, it was Mareth. The thin woman shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands. "The Lord Greylan," she said, trying not to sound unnerved (or perhaps jealous?), "_personally _demands your presence." She took a deep breath and composed herself. "H-He wants you to come to him immediately."

Love stared long and hard at Mareth. Though the slave woman had stumbled over "immediately", it was obvious that Mareth could tell her more about the world than the albino boy that had run through the main room earlier. Greylan might be able to tell her more, and she was a slave now (a slave, you are a slave, is this what Queen Aleena felt when her empire crumbled, I wonder), so she had little say in the subject. "I would see him," she said, "except I don't know where he is." Love glanced up at Mareth. Would this work? "Could you show me the way?"

Mareth nodded and stepped toward the door, gesturing for Love to follow. "This way, this way," she said, chanting it as if it were some sacred mantra.

The night air was much colder outside the slaves' quarters. Love found herself missing the Letterman's jacket she had been wearing only hours before. It was warm enough for Central City's winters, so it could stand the mid-spring of this... Place, whatever it was. That got Love back on track; she had to ask now or she'd miss her chance. The manse was not far from where they started.

"What do you call this place?" Love asked, stepping closer to Mareth and pulling the shabby bit of linen that served as a cape.

"Calanche Villa," replied Mareth.

"No," Love shook her head, "I meant the country. What country is this."

"Oh!" The lantern Mareth held in her hand bobbed up and down as if she had been embarrassed. The woman, barely visible in the dim light, brushed back a stray strand of her dark hair and said, "Galacia, this place is. The name of the world..." She shrugged. "Well, it en't for lowly servants like me to know."

"Ah."

Love asked no more as they entered the main hall and wound their way through passages and stairways. At this point in time, she wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to know anything else. This world was strange enough.

The duo moved through a mansion that Love had only imagined existing in a fairy tale. Perhaps this was where she was; an eternal fairy tale, one where they told stories of reality before a crackling fire. This fact frightened her. What would happen should she cease to exist?

"We are here."

Love would have thanked Mareth, but the slave woman was gone before Greylan even opened the door. And so, Love found herself face to face with one of the largest men she had ever seen.

A soft smile could be traced on the man's lips, and he waved her inside before anyone could witness the events. Inside the warm bedchambers, Love soon began to realize why she was here--and she could not stand it.

"I cannot--"

"You will not." The level tone of his voice hardly assured her, but Love could find no argument. He gestured to two chairs that had been set before the fire. "Sit, please, miss..." He waved his hand at her, subtly asking for her name.

"Love," she replied, flomping down upon the chair. Her hands were shaking even as he offered her wine and took his seat beside her.

"Love..." Greylan seemed to ponder over what kind of parent would name their child such a silly name. "Yes, well." He took a sip of wine and set it on the end table. "You're not from here, are you?" Before Love could speak, Greylan continued, "That was rhetoric. Please, don't worry me with a reply. I know you're not from around here." His once-welcoming countenance soon became hard and suspicious. "Where are you from, girl?"

The silence was painful. Love shifted in her seat; Greylan watched her every move like a hawk. "M-Mobius..." she said at last. "Mobius, Arksalon, Central City..." She coughed on her wine and soon began to cry into it. "I... I want to go back," she whispered.

Greylan stared for a few moments, clutching the arms of his chair. Finally, he stood and took the goblet from her hands. He knelt by the chair and stroked the tears from her cheek, not saying a word.

"You don't believe me," sniffed Love. She pulled her hear away. "You never have. You think I'm... I'm some sort of enemy, but I'm.. I'm not!" Her sobs continued, and Greylan embraced her, if only just to cease her tears.

"I believe you," Greylan whispered. "I do..."

When she glanced up at him, eyes full of tears, Greylan could not help but kiss her. Such affections for a stranger... Her beauty had captivated his mind, and he could not help but be infatuated.

_What harm can she do? _He reasoned. _She's just a girl._

--

Irene jumped as a horrible shriek woke her from her nap. The Lady Calanche was awake, and quite shaken up about something. The servant girl was on her feet and in the room in a matter of seconds, only to find the Lady standing at her window, staring up at the full moon.

"Our doom has come in the front door," she whispered, "and my son has taken her to bed..."

"Milady?" Irene approached carefully, trying not to be on the receiving end of the Lady's fits.

Lady Calanche whirled, causing the servant girl to scream and fall back. Her eyes reflected the candle Irene clasped in one hand, and the moonlight behind her aided the paranormal appearance. "Can you feel it?"

The hoarse whisper of Lady Calanche wore off on Irene's speech, and she could not help but whisper back. "Feel what?"

"Death." The Lady turned her gaze back to the full moon, placing her weight on the windowsill. After a time, she spoke, this time loud and clear. "Leave me, Irene."

"B-but--"

"I said," the Lady turned her head, eyes flashing, "leave me, Irene!"

Some say that the Lady Calanche dabbled in magic, and that her family descended from Elves or Fae. Here, in the moonlight, Irene could not doubt the stories. And as she shut the door and went back to her bed, Irene began to wonder if Lady Calanche was really as distant as most people thought...


End file.
